Will

They ate an early dinner—courtesy of Number One—that consisted of roasted fish and a small assortment of nuts and berries. It was not all that much food when split eight ways, but the chimps had also been munching on some roots that were unpalatable for humans throughout the day, so they settled for slightly smaller portions.

They ate in a rough circle on the floor of the house. Will was feeling fairly ravenous after all the ordeals he'd been through in the last few days, his body eager to recover some strength, but Sam was still fidgeting and eyeing others’ plates after licking her own clean, so Will pretended he wasn't hungry and gave her the rest of his food. Her face lit up at that, and she dug in with all her usual gusto.

No longer occupied by eating, Will launched straight into his deliberation. He decided it was best to rip the band-aid off quick, so he started with the part he knew they’d want to hear least.

"We’re gonna need to split up," he said, rubbing his bad eye. "I need to get back to Sheerhome as soon as possible to salvage what I can with Brimstone, and you guys need to head north.”

"North?" Mongrel asked from the other end of the huddle, frowning deeply. "Why the hell would we do that?"

"Because you need to find our good friend Big Deal Buck and bring him back to Sheerhome."

"Him? He’s an idiot!"

"Who’s Big Deal Buck?" Sam asked through a mouthful of fish.

"Calling him a 'friend' is pretty much the overstatement of the century, I think," Mongrel grumbled, playing with the crumbly fish steak on his own plate. "We all tried to murder each other a while back—in this very town, as it happens. We killed all his friends and stole his demon, and he killed one of ours in return."

"That… doesn't really sound like a friend," Sam agreed. "And anyway, why can't we all just go back to the city together? Whatever trouble we're in, I'm sure we can get out of it if we work as a team."

"A very good question," Will said, nodding, and lit a cigarette off the dwindling cook fire. "One that touches on the reason why we're here in the first place."

"Okay?"

"I thought we'd have a lot more time to prepare before taking Brimstone down. Unfortunately, you'll definitely be on his radar after your antics in the pits, which means you can't return to the city for the time being. This place is called Millstone—it's one of many settlements on the Frontier that were abandoned after the Deicide. We brought you here so you'd be outside Brimstone's reach while we formulate a plan.

"Between your existence being revealed to the whole city and Brimstone's recent obsession with waging war on Stormfront, everything's moving much faster than I'd anticipated. If we don't stay one step ahead, this will likely end very badly—for us, for Sheerhome, maybe the whole damn octant."

"If Brimstone is courting trouble with Lady Winter," Mongrel mused, "why don't we wait for her to knock him off for us?"

Will took a drag off his cigarette and let out a smoky sigh. "There are a number of reasons why that would be… less than ideal. Lady Winter could almost certainly deal with Brimstone, yes, but it's going to take more than sending an assassin here or a squad of soldiers there. It's hard to guess at the combat efficiency of her undead troops, but I imagine she'd have to send at least a good chunk of her army here if she wants to lay siege to the city. Alternatively, she could travel here in person to deal with Brimstone herself. Either solution would leave Stormfront compromised, meaning the likelihood of a monster incursion into the Hinterland is uncomfortably high.

"That's not to mention the fact that Lady Winter would ostensibly be viewed as a foreign conqueror. I find it unlikely that the citizens of Sheerhome would accept any ruler she seats on the high chair after taking Brimstone off it. That would mean civil unrest; riots, violence between partisan groups, coup attempts, that sort of thing.

"The third solution is that Lady Winter makes an agreement with the rest of the Lords' Council to put economic pressure on Sheerhome until Brimstone is forced to back down. This is a slightly better option in theory, assuming she could wrangle the bag of cats that is the ruling body of Octant Six, but that would still mean trade blockades and economic sanctions against Sheerhome for however long Brimstone holds out. He is not known to be a particularly agreeable man at the best of times, so my guess is that he would resist for several months.

"That means starvation for the people of Sheerhome. The city does not produce enough food to supply its citizens, relying on shipments from Drownport and Octant Four. Many would die. Whichever way you turn it, relying on Lady Winter to solve the Brimstone problem is bound to end badly. Luckily, I managed to send her a Message via the Stormfront merchant's wife, asking her not to intervene and to give us time to depose Brimstone on our own. Hopefully, she'll listen."

"I hate politics," Sam muttered into her spoon.

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"I'm with you so far, kid," Mongrel said, thoughtfully rubbing at his long stubble, "but I still don't get what it has to do with that prissy little bastard."

"That's simple," Will replied. "We're going to make him lord of Sheerhome."

"Fuck off."

"He's not a perfect candidate, I'll grant you that, but he's likely the best we're going to get. He's extremely well-liked, as not only a former champion pit fighter but also an accomplished performer. Buck and Brimstone have a mutual hatred of one another, which is good because that makes it more likely for Buck to go along with the plan, and it makes Brimstone more likely to accept a one-on-one duel with him, rather than forcing us to go through a protracted and bloody guerilla campaign to get to him. Without a proper procedure for installing a new ruler, a public duel is the best way to ensure a smooth transition. Not only does it display the power of the new lord, it also sets him up as the only legitimate candidate by showing him single-handedly dismantling the old regime, rather than allowing things to break down into squabbling and infighting between multiple likely options.

"Like I mentioned, Buck's a very good fighter—I can attest to that first-hand—and his semblance is supposed to be well-suited to combat, meaning he might be able to compete with Brimstone in a semblance clash if it comes to that.

"His only real demerit is that he's a good few levels below Brimstone, at seventeen compared to Brimstone's twenty-three. That's why it's important for us to level the playing field by learning as much as possible about Brimstone's build and finding out his weaknesses. By returning to Sheerhome, I'll head up that part of the plan while also doing my best to throw Brimstone off you two, to avoid him sending people after you. Additionally, I'll see about drumming up some formal resistance against Brimstone, just in case that guerilla action becomes necessary after all.

"I received word from my contact in Timbryhall some time ago that Buck went through there after we chased him out of Millstone, meaning he might have set up along the Iron Road by now. You follow that route, you find Buck, and you bring him back to the city—drag him along by his ears if you have to. By the time you get back, I'll have everything in place to rid Sheerhome of its least favorite burn victim."

Will spread his hands. "So there you have it. Any questions?"

Sam licked her second plate, stacked it atop the first with a rattle of tin, and raised her hand.

He nodded in her direction. "Yes, Sam?"

"It sounds like we don't really have any choice but to do it this way, and I get that, but…" She chewed her bottom lip with a newly sharpened tooth. "How long is this going to take, exactly?"

Will knew she wasn't going to like his answer one bit—he didn't fancy it much himself—but he still had to say it. "It's hard to say. A lot of it depends on how far north Buck's gone and whether he's in hiding. Hopefully it won't take much longer than two weeks, but it could take as long as a month if he's all the way up in Stormfront."

"A month!? That's ages!"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I wish we had better options available, but we don't."

"But…" She looked mournfully at the empty plates in front of her, as though wishing there was more. "But I only just got to see you again…"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"We'll have tonight together though, won't we?" There was open pleading in the look she gave him.

Will pressed his lips flat and forced himself to meet her gaze. It would be better if they began straight away, set out as soon as they had packed their things. They were short enough on time already.

But he found that he couldn't bring himself to be quite that cynical, no matter how much cause there was for it. "Yes," he said after a long pause. "Let's rest up tonight and get started in the morning. One more day won't make me look any more suspicious to Brimstone than I already do, and it's best if we're as rested as possible before we go into this."

Sam nodded, looking if not happy, then at least a bit less worried. "Okay," she said. "That's something, at least."

* * *

When Sam stepped outside to help Number Five with the dishes, Will took the opportunity to plop down next to Mongrel. The ugly old Farmer shrunk in on himself when he came close, ducking his chin into the leathery folds of his turkey neck.

"What do you want?" he asked sullenly, looking to his familiars for assistance. None of them looked particularly keen on intervening. He glanced over at Will, then looked away again, glaring at the opposite wall with his knees drawn up to his chest like a pouty child. "I'm not doing it, you know. I was never into this whole 'killing Brimstone' thing in the first place. No way, kid—I'm out."

"I understand," Will replied.

Mongrel snorted. "But…?"

"I'm asking you to go. I need you to go. Obviously Sam can't do it by herself, and based on how you've acquitted yourself in the last few days I think I might have underestimated your abilities."

"Flattery's not going to get you anywhere with me, Willy-Boy."

"How about guilt-tripping, then?"

Mongrel let out a long, put-upon sigh. "You're really going to bring that up again? It's old business, Will—I even let you get a free shot in! I think it's going to bruise, by the way." He gave his cheek a self-pitying rub.

"You know you did the wrong thing," Will said, forcing patience. "This is your chance to make up for it. Prove that I can trust you to watch my back—and Sam's—the same way I've always been there to watch yours. Doing your part to put Brimstone in the ground is the right thing for our friendship, it's the right thing for our city, and if that's not enough…" He shrugged. "Putting a new lord in the high chair who owes you a favor or two probably won't hurt in regards to matters of personal finance."

Mongrel shook his head firmly. "No way. If you want to court death so bad you need to chase her down, that's fine by me, but I like my head where it is. I've got enough to deal with on my own now that I've got a pet demon stuck to me like a damn leech—thanks to you, by the way. So I'm real grateful for the offer to join your little suicide mission, but I'll pass."

"All right, Mongrel," Will said, pushing himself off the old man's shoulder as he stood back up. "I'm not going to force you into anything. It will mean an extra trip to Sheerhome, but I can probably scrounge together at least one or two reliable people to accompany Sam up the Iron Road."

"You do that!" Mongrel snapped back, shrinking even further into himself. "And don't say I didn't warn you, either! You'll end up dead over this, Will, mark my words! And when you do, I won't be saying any pretty words over your grave, no sir. Won't catch me digging it, neither."

Will did not offer any argument. He was well enough acquainted with the old bastard to know that he was only getting heated because his conscience had already talked him into going, and he was desperately trying to talk himself out of it.

Good luck with that, old man.